Broken Skulls
by weezer
Summary: Draco's path to Darkness. From all out murder to pain and torture, Draco is being led down the road to becoming a cold blooded monster to rival the Dark Lord himself.
1. Breaking

Chapter I: Breaking  
  
Blonde hair matted to his forehead, caked in blood, pain coursing his body. He gasped for breath as the wand was lifted. The little boy collapsed to the ground.  
  
"Never again," a cool, drawling voice said, mocking him.  
  
"Yes, father, never again." Routine, just agree, he'll let go, he'll go away. His bones ached from the torture, down to his very core. It was discomforting to know his own father would hurt him so.  
  
With a swish of his cloak, the elder Malfoy left the room, grunting with dissatisfaction. Another blink of the eye and his mother was cradling him in her arms. She was the only one who cared for him.  
  
"Are you al right, Draco?" she cooed softly. The pained look on her face stood out even in the low light that was associated with the night.  
  
"Fine," he lied. That bastard would get it soon. No one crossed Draco Malfoy and got away with it. Well, except for HIM in the past. Draco swore to get revenge on his father, the Death Eater. The only question was how to do it...  
  
***  
  
Years later, the little boy named Draco was grown up. Almost 15, his father had yet to receive his payback, much to Dracos dismay.  
  
A few weeks more and he would back where he felt the best, away from home. Malfoy Manor was comfortable and his mother was very caring, but Lucius was unbearable. The pain he caused Draco was cruel, merciless, unfair. The very thought reminded him of the promise he had made so many times after being put under the Cruciatus Curse.   
  
What would be a proper punishment for such a thing? In rage, Draco could think of nothing. A life sentence in Azkaban wasn't even worth it. His anger surrounded him, encasing him in a bubble of hate.  
  
It had happened again the night before. Draco truly had done nothing this time. Lucius had Apparated into the Manor with a pained look in his face but a fire of hatred in his eyes. He sought out his son and fed his anger through him. There was no doubt in Dracos mind that Lucius had been put through pain, possibly from the Dark Lord, himself.  
  
Avoiding the glaring eyes of his father, Draco bustled around, amusing himself with trinkets just to pass the time. An impulse in the back of his mind reminded him of something he had to do.  
  
He marched into his mothers room and found her on the bed looking at old photographs. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that in each one she held, there was a small, pale boy laughing merrily.  
  
"Mother, may I leave to a friends house for the day?" Her bottom lip quivered slightly. She really did love him. It hurt her to see Lucius hurt him, so she cared for him as best as she could.  
  
"Of course, dear. Where will you be?" She only seemed slightly reluctant to let him go.  
  
"The Parkinsons."  
  
***  
  
She comforted him as well. She only comforted him more, though. That's why he preferred here more than there. He kissed her deeply, tasting her sweet flavors, strawberry, cream, roses... It was so sensual, so desired.  
  
Pansy was a good friend. Certainly not a good girlfriend, as she was a supreme gossip, but she could relieve a mans stress as best as anyone could.  
  
He whispered softly in her ear, making her shiver. He loved the power, the sheer control he had. With a lying word here and a false endearment there, he could make her fall for him. It was all too easy, he thought.  
  
It was the next morning, the day after he asked for permission to stay for the day. He never said stay the night but certain... factors... called for him to rest till the next day. Draco would leave in a matter of minutes, back to the hell he called home.   
  
He had to find some way to leave that wretched place. All he would have to do is force one of those dimwitted fools, Crabbe and Goyle, to ask if he could stay the rest of the summer. Then he would simply stay at Pansys till it was time to go back to Hogwarts. Again, it was all too easy.  
  
Leaving Pansy behind, he Flooed home and raced to his room to write one of the goons to invite him for the summer. Sending off the letter, Draco plopped onto his bed and fell to sleep, seeing as he hadn't slept too much the night before... 


	2. A Very Bad Day

Chapter II: A Very Bad Day  
  
With an invitation to Goyles in hand, Draco took his things in hand and Flooed to the Goyle estate, where he stayed for two seconds, much less time than expected, where he immediately Flooed on to Pansys.  
  
She was waiting there for him, since he had told her of his plan to get out of his fathers presence. She sympathized for him to the most sickening extents. Her father was a Death Eater, although not commonly recognized as such. He seemed harmless, quivering, defenseless, but under the masquerade rested an evil, masochistic soul deprived of happiness since the day his wife had died at his hands. The reports had said she had simply disappeared but he knew better.  
  
"Draco," he said simply, avoiding his gaze as though Draco could harm such a monster.  
  
"Mr. Parkinson," Draco replied flatly.  
  
Pansy led him to her room where he would be sleeping, or maybe not. He dropped his bags and kicked the door shut behind him. He still was tensed from the torture and needed something to take his mind off of his problems.  
  
She place her hand to the back of his neck before suddenly pulling him down. Shocked for a only a moment, he relished in the warmth of her mouth opening up to him. He complied and felt the worry slip away. Nothing like a little of this to take your mind off of things, he thought, drinking in the sweet tastes and flavors. She always tasted different. Today was a sweet honey and milk mixture.  
  
Hours passed in pleasure. She really was amazing, but he would never dare to date her. She still was a complete snob when you weren't kissing her or banging her. Anytime else and you felt the need to slap her in the face.  
  
So Draco passed the days, sleeping and kissing and screwing, all without the pain of Cruciatus. Life was good...  
  
***  
  
Days passed, and it was soon Draco's fifteenth birthday. It was June 30th, right smack dab in the middle of the year.  
  
The two dunces, Crabbe and Goyle, showed up along with Blaise Zabini, a fellow fifth-year Slytherin. Theodore Nott was there as well, son of a bit-Death Eater-that he was. There were other pathetic excuses for friends, all looking up to him, he that was already said to be the next Dark Lord, Voldemorts right hand prodigy. It was in their well-being to suck up to him now, ahead of time.  
  
The dull ceremonies proceeded, worthless present after present, things he could get any day with the unending wealth that was the Malfoy fortune. Just a formality, he thought. It was just their duty to do this.  
  
Nearing the end of the formal party, there was a series of POP's heard downstairs and their was a murmur around the room as a group of about a dozen hooded wizards entered from the entrance hall. The foremost of the dark robed men lifted their hoods to reveal Lucius Malfoy. A red fire could be seen beneath the placid, cool composure that all Malfoys possessed. He was in the mood again, and Draco knew he would be punished.  
  
"Come," he said.  
  
They marched Draco to the entrance hall, the only Apparition point in the house, and his father grasped his arm.  
  
A rushing noise filled his ears and he felt a pulling sensation coming from where Luicus had grabbed him. Forced Apparition, he thought. Never a pleasant thing. It was a very painful experience. Normally, it wasn't exactly legal to do Forced Apparition, but Lucius Malfoy was never one to follow the rules, specifically the ones that protect people from harm.  
  
They landed in a graveyard, dusk just starting to fall on the town of Little Hangleton. Draco had been here a few times before, but he could never remember too much of what had happened.  
  
Standing no more than a dozen yards away was a circle of people, all cloaked similarly to Dracos father. Death Eaters.  
  
"Welcome, Draco," a cold, shrill voice called out. The circle parted to reveal a tall wizard, their leader. Even under the hood, Draco could see the Dark Lords red, slit eyes.  
  
A push from behind and Draco fell to his knees, craning his head to look up to the tall wizard who was approaching him.  
  
"Master, I am yours," Draco said. That was the only way to avoid more pain, to give yourself up.  
  
"Do you know why you are here today?" the sinister voice asked.  
  
"No, m'lord, I do not."  
  
"Today you will prove that you belong with me. You are not aware of it, but this has been long planned, long before you were born. You were made for me. You were designed for this purpose. It is your fate, and you will follow your path. Understood?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good. You are charged with the task to dispose of this trash." With a wave of his hand, a man stepped forward, hidden under cloak but obviously struggling against the bindings which held him.  
  
"What must I do?"  
  
"Oh, we have a spell that we need testing, might as well try that one." Voldemort showed Draco what to do and stepped back.  
  
"Patesco Ile!" Draco shouted pointing his wand at the victim. The man kneeled down, screaming in pain and anguish. Draco was startled, but he held onto his wand, focusing all his energy into the spell. The yelling and shouting was unbearable, and Draco wished it would stop.  
  
As if his wish had come true, the screaming stopped abruptly. The head of the man, still hooded craned upwards and the hood fell down. Karkaroff. The Durmstrang headmasters mouth was open in fury and pain, but no sound came out. His arm reached into his robes and grasped his wand. Draco waited to be cursed or hexed, but was surprised when Karkaroff took the wand and slid the tip across his stomach.  
  
A knife would not have made a cleaner cut. Blood oozed out of the invisible cut that Karkaroff had created and the wound opened more. Red stained his robes and the ground was now tainted red. Now, accompanied with the blood that flowed freely, organs started popping out of the growing slice. A stomach, intestinal tract, other unnamed blobs. They each were much dirtier than the pictures showed in the anatomy books. More...red? Deformed?  
  
The body that once lived flopped to the ground on its stomach. The stench of blood and pain oozed from the body. Voldemort walked casually up to the shell that was a man and reached into the cut. Draco winced as Voldemorts hand searched through the remnants that were left and almost retched when the hand was raised triumphantly, grasping what could be none other than Igor Karkaroffs heart.  
  
"Now you see what happens to traitors and spies! Do not betray me!" His eyes were ablaze with fury, looking from each hooded figure to the next. He softened his gaze and turned to Draco. "Thank you, young Malfoy. Excellent concentration. I see that you have turned out just like I wanted. Cold, brutal, all of the above. Keep up the good work, Lucius," he said, never taking his eyes off of the blonde boy who now kneeled in front of him.  
  
The silver gray eyes looked up to the reptilian face of the Dark Lord, narrowing slightly.  
  
"Thank you, m'lord." 


	3. Brooding Thoughts

Chapter III: Brooding Thoughts  
  
Draco had been taken back to the Parkinsons and told that he would not be picked up, that he would leave straight from the Parkinsons to the Hogwarts Express. This was all fine with Draco, since he never enjoyed the mansion. Malfoy Manor was giant, and all of it consisted of the same material: stone. Draco doubted that it was originally carved out of a stone mountain, but it certainly could be.  
  
Draco spent the rest of the time with Pansy, much like he did before his birthday, much to his dismay. What a bore she was! Eventually, he took a trip to Diagon Alley to get some of the newer supplies that had been asked for.  
  
The Hogwarts letters had come two weeks after Draco's birthday for both Pansy and Draco. Draco was unsurprised to see that that Mudblood Granger had managed to become prefect, seeing how much of a stuck-up know-it-all she was. What did surprise him was that he had become the Slytherin prefect. Who chose the new prefects, again? That's right, he thought, the Heads of House pick from their fifth year students, and, knowing that Snape was always treating him right because of Draco's close family, it was only common sense that had him in this position.  
  
Draco went to get his supplies a few weeks after the letters, making his trip the first and second of August. He took up a room in the Leaky Cauldron for later in the night and set out down the cobble brick road. Pansy was staying at home with her father, thank goodness, he was starting to get a little bored of her.  
  
Later in the day, he was unpleasantly surprised to see the infamous trio, Potter, Weasley, and... Granger? She had changed a little.  
  
He shook himself and quickly formulated a plan to wind them up.  
  
"Little Potty, how nice to see you...or maybe not!" Completely simple but it got their attention at least. This was almost too easy.  
  
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry said through his teeth.  
  
"Why, I was merely going to ask how much fun it was to kill that prat Diggory in that last task. Everyone knows you did it, putting on the mask of innocence just isn't going to do it this time," Draco drawled, relishing in delight at how simple it was to rile them up.  
  
"Shut up, Malfoy, before I smash your face in!" Weasley shouted. Draco snorted.  
  
"What's so funny, Draco?" Hermione said, putting sarcastic emphasis on his name.  
  
"Oh, just the fact that Weasley here couldn't bust his way out of a soggy paper bag. He wouldn't have a chance against me, magical or non-magical." He flashed his trademark smirk and waltzed away.  
  
"I'll take you up on that offer!" Ron shouted at his receding back.  
  
Draco casually flipped the finger and skipped off. Nothing to raise the spirits like a taunting session of the inseparable "three."   
  
As soon as the waning joy retreated, the darkness in his mind rose to the surface again. A little more than a month ago, he had killed a man. It wasn't as if he cared at all for Karkaroff, it was just the fact that he had killed someone. That was the first time that he had killed anyone, or even seen someone die.  
  
The disturbing part about it was that he had liked it. Sure, Voldemort thrusting his hand into the dead body was a little disgusting, but it felt good to let out the anger. The pain that had been pent up for so long because of Lucius' constant torture had finally found an outlet. He knew a word for this. Pain for happiness...  
  
"Sadism," he muttered to himself.  
  
A witch who was standing near him in the shop he had wandered aimlessly into gave him a wary look and quickly left in a preoccupied manner.  
  
The rest of the two days went by in a blur. Shopping and brooding on his thoughts took up most of his time. He saw some familiar students who weren't familiar enough for him to waste his time talking to.  
  
Nothing eventful happened all through this time, leaving Draco to dwell on his sick thoughts, every innocent object reminding him in one way or another of intestines or blood. 


End file.
